


The Hero Dies in This One

by thegirlwiththemouseyhair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththemouseyhair/pseuds/thegirlwiththemouseyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I said I was going to do a series of three short Thomas modern AU pieces based on some of the emo/pop punk songs I used to love as a teen and went through a phase of pulling out and listening to last month. The title of this piece - which is apparently what happens when I try to write high school AU for this ship - comes from the Ataris song. This is very loosely in the same series as Magazines (based on the Brand New song), and I should do a Crowbarrow piece in this series eventually, too.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Hero Dies in This One

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was going to do a series of three short Thomas modern AU pieces based on some of the emo/pop punk songs I used to love as a teen and went through a phase of pulling out and listening to last month. The title of this piece - which is apparently what happens when I try to write high school AU for this ship - comes from the Ataris song. This is very loosely in the same series as Magazines (based on the Brand New song), and I should do a Crowbarrow piece in this series eventually, too.

Thomas is sitting with his back against the wall waiting for the counsellor. His eyes itch from crying all weekend. If he had the energy – if he’d slept at all in the days since Edward’s suicide – he might get up to run away, rather than try talking about what happened, but he’s too tired, and his mum and dad insisted that he speak to someone.

After all, it’s not every day that you find someone you love dead in his room and try to call for help, only to realize it’s too late.

Thomas blinks back fresh tears. He imagines what he might say to the counsellor – though he doubts he’ll be able to speak at all when the time comes, certainly not to a stranger.

 _I really love him,_ he thinks he’ll say. _Loved him –_ he can’t believe Edward’s gone, and can’t imagine how his own life will continue without him. They’d talked about going to uni together, maybe taking a flat somewhere after that. They were going to have a future together. _I know we’re young –_ he _was young, too young to die – but I know what I feel. I thought we were happy, too._

Edward had never really been happy since his accident, but Thomas had been _helping_ him. They’d been such good friends and made such a good couple. Thomas had no idea he was going to kill himself. He wonders if he should have figured it out somehow. Edward was always so quiet, even when he was at his worst – but Thomas should have suspected. There must have been something he’d missed? Yet he’d been so sure things were getting better. Edward had been smiling more and more with him. (God, Thomas is going to miss those smiles…)

Edward’s parents should have known, too. They’d been sending him to a psychologist since before he and Thomas met, but the psychologist clearly hadn’t done her job either, hadn’t helped a bit. Thomas chokes back a sob. He hates them all.

 _I got his email in the morning. It sounded like he was breaking up with me or something. He said he_ loved _me but that we wouldn’t see each other anymore, which made no sense ‘cause his family were fine with us. He was worried they wouldn’t be, at first, but they were all right with everything. Anyway, I got worried when I saw that and when he wasn’t in school, so I replied to him and then I just kept calling and calling all morning. When I didn’t hear back by the break, I left and went to his house. I know where they kept the spare key ‘cause he showed me once when he forgot his own._

He sees the scene in his mind as clearly as if he were still standing in Edward’s room. The memory makes him break down completely. He buries his face in his hands, crying as he had done on Friday. There’s no way he’ll be able to get the words out when the counsellor comes. He could barely speak to his own parents or tell the Courtenay family what had happened.

 _There was blood everywhere. I looked it up online after; they say it’s a really bad way to kill yourself, slitting your wrists, but he must have known what he was doing and cut an artery or something._ Thomas shudders, remembering how much blood there had been on Edward’s bed – the bed where they’d slept together for the first time, one weekend when Edward’s parents and brother had gone on holiday without him – and on the hardwood floor of the Courtenay house. Edward was gone when Thomas entered his room. Thomas had panicked; he’d touched Edward’s cold hand, tried to feel for a pulse, but he _knew_ the other boy was dead, even as he made his hysterical call to 999.

 _He looked so scared_ , Thomas thinks. _It must have taken so long, and he must have been in so much pain…_

If only he could speak to Edward again. He’d rather have his boyfriend back than anyone else in the world, though his parents and his teachers have been very nice to him since Edward’s death. But they can’t _help_ him. He doesn’t want anyone but Edward, and has had at least a dozen conversations with him in his imagination since Friday.

 _You should have_ said _. You never said anything; I thought I was making you happy. We were so good_ _together; you know I’d have helped you._ Thomas knows there’s no use, now, but he can’t stop himself. _Why didn’t you_ say _? Why’d you have to do it at all?_

“Thomas?” the counsellor asks, stepping out of her office at last. Thomas squeezes his eyes shut. He never thought he’d let himself be seen like this, helpless, curled in a ball and crying, but he doesn’t care anymore. It just doesn’t _matter_.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the woman begins. Everyone Thomas knows has said something similar, if they said anything at all.

“I can wait a bit, if you need more time…”

Thomas swallows hard. He still doesn’t trust his voice, but he pulls himself up and shakes his head.

“I’ll come in now,” he says hoarsely.

But he’s already wondering what she could possibly do for him. He hadn’t done enough to show Edward how much he loved him; he hadn’t been there when Edward needed him – when he might have _saved_ him, talked him out of it – and now Edward’s dead and there’s nothing Ms. Crawley or anyone can do about it.

He staggers into the office without looking at her.


End file.
